A Cloud descending

I made a resolution to write here once a week. It has taken me all week to face it. As if from a cloud, the blackness has descended. It gets more frustrating the longer you've felt well. Not just well, normal. I started the year on a wave of energy and threw myself into projects...both of which are on hold due to holidays (not mine), which coukd possibly have something to do with the way I feel. Although, I don't think so. Both projects could have been worked on in the meantime. In fact, one should have been as I still have costumes to find, a location to scout, two cast members to find and I need to drawer out that thing they do for films...the word escapes my muddled mind. I have done none of these things. Not out of laziness, I hasten to add, but this illness is quite literally crippling. And it can strike out of nowhere. One day you're full of beans and life and then slowly they get sucked out of you until leaving the house is a major event. Which is where you find me today. Sitting on my couch, nerves dancing in my belly and the thought of work tonight scaring me more than is reasonable for a grown woman who does this job week in, week out. The problem is the job involves people. My depression doesn't lije people. It likes sofa's and chocolate and TV and Twitter. That's it. I haven't been feeding it chocolate (much) and I have been dragging it out on runs as I am training for the London Marathon. The runs give a momentary feeling of victory, followed by the crushing uselessness that is depression. It's beyond frustrating when it gets you out of nowhere. Just there it is, appearing like a rapist out of a shadow; ready to attack. In some ways the scary fear of being crazy was nicer than the crushing realisation that its got you again and you can't do anything about it. Well, no worse, you're already on tablets, you see a therapist twice a week. It had felt like it was working and yet, here you are again. Desperate. Lonely. Hopeless. Worse still is the nagging thought that its been about three months since your drugs increased. It was about three months the last time too. Is this it? Will this be life? More and more and more drugs until one day you just don't feel anything anymore? There you go Hannah, being all dramatic. Being all morose. Except I'm not being anything, something is being me. And I don't like it anymore. When will it all end? Send cookies. Sent from Yahoo! Mail on Android